But there was no way I was walking home in my good shoes. If I didn't ruin them, I'd ruin my feet. I caught the M103 bus on Park Row. It would cost just as much as the subway, but it offered some of the same mental transition benefits as walking. I got off the bus at Fourteenth Street and headed home. Glancing at my watch as I entered the building, I was surprised to find that it was just past noon. I'd felt like I was in that conference room all day, but it had been little more than an hour.
It felt weird being at home alone during the day, but I was too restless to sit around the apartment. I changed into jeans, tennis shoes, and a sweatshirt, then went downstairs and headed over to Union Square. The market in the heart of the city made me homesick at times, but it also felt like a reassuring piece of home. I could talk to the farmers who sold their produce there and actually sound like I knew what I was talking about. This, I knew, was real, and the only magic involved was the miracle that
turned sun, water, seed, and soil into fruits and vegetables. I'd never been there on a weekday before, and I noticed that the market was smaller than usual, without any of the vendors I knew. I picked up a few things I could turn into dinner that night, some apples for a pie, and a small bunch of flowers to brighten up the apartment.
Today the market had made me homesick. I'd consulted my family on every major decision I'd made in my life, but this was one decision I had to make by myself. My parents had been opposed to me going to New York, trying first guilt and then scare tactics to change my mind. But even if I hadn't ultimately gone along with their advice, I had consulted them. I couldn't begin to imagine what they'd say if I told them I'd been offered a job at Magic, Inc.
Then again, they'd never had a conversation with a gargoyle, so what advice could they offer?
I went home, opened the windows, put some music on, and sat down at the kitchen table to peel apples while I thought about everything that had happened this week. It was easier to think about magic while doing something so mundane.
My parents were far enough away that I could get away with just telling them I'd changed jobs, but what about my roommates? They'd expect to be in on the decision. They'd helped me find my current job, and they were constantly on the lookout for something better for me. I'd mentioned Rod's e-mails to them. They were going to think I was stark raving insane.
Or would they? I might have been tempted to tell them about all the magic stuff if Rod hadn't already warned me that it had to be a secret. They were pretty open-minded. They might actually believe it. Or else they'd ship me back home for medical help. I wished I could find a way to get their input on the decision, though.
Sharing the burden would make it easier on me.
My pie was just coming out of the oven when Gemma got home. "Don't tell me you spent your day off cooking," she said.